


Rant

by Eggling



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (1963)
Genre: M/M, Season 6B
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-09
Updated: 2017-04-09
Packaged: 2018-10-16 19:09:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10577664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eggling/pseuds/Eggling
Summary: The Doctor is sometimes overwhelmed by the lack of freedom the Time Lords afford him.





	

**Author's Note:**

> for [penny-anna](penny-anna.tumblr.com).

The Doctor’s arrival was betrayed by his annoyed muttering before he even appeared to the doorway, frowning to himself, casting the shadow of his displeasure over the room like a dishevelled rain cloud. Jamie sighed and braced himself for the unavoidable deluge of complaints as the Doctor closed the door with dangerous care and started t pace the room frustratedly.

“Can you believe them, Jamie!” he exclaimed after a moment. “They won’t extend the peace conference by just a few more days, even when it concerns the safety of this entire planet! Goodness knows how they managed without me. What sort of – of bureaucratic _idiots_ could do that?”

“These ones, I suppose,” Jamie said absently, putting down the book he had been examining. Even if he had felt able to grapple with its large size and tiny, cramped lines of text, the writing was all in some odd geometric text he assumed was native to the planet.

“Hmph.” The Doctor marched over to where the TARDIS was parked in the corner, pushing the doors open with an offended huff and gesturing for Jamie to follow him. Jamie rolled his eyes, fighting a reluctantly fond smile. Despite the Doctor’s dislike of authority figures, he could be as commanding as any English general when the mood took him. “And then _they_ want us back in a few hours, and I simply don’t have _time_ for this.”

“Who, the – the ambassadors?”

“No, the Time Lords.” The Doctor flicked a few switches on the console. “Do keep up, Jamie.”

“I think ye need a rest,” Jamie said diplomatically, putting one hand on the Doctor’s shoulder. “We’ve had a long few days, and you’re tired -”

“I am not tired!” the Doctor insisted. “I’m simply expressing my frustration with the, ah, injustices of the system we’re supposed to work with.” He poked at a box resting precariously next to the rotor, making the lid spring open and a screw fly out, narrowly avoiding hitting them. “Oh. Oh, dear, I had wanted to make these repairs.”

“Slow down, Doctor,” Jamie said, catching his wildly gesturing hands and holding him still. “What’s wrong? I dinnae understand.”

The Doctor took a deep breath, puffing his chest up, looking for all the world like an indignant bird. “The peace conference here isn’t finished yet – it’s a very delicate piece of work, you see, but both sides are getting rather impatient. They think it would be better to start – start shooting at each other again, rather than simply sitting down and talking about it. Pure idiocy.” Jamie thought this underestimated the immediate results provided by physical combat, but kept his mouth shut, sure the Doctor would not approve of this viewpoint. “I’ve tried to tell them to extend it – just a few days more, you understand, not that long – but they won’t see sense. And then in the middle of it all, the Time Lords call us back, saying that this assignment has been a failure and they’re sending in more competent agents. Think of it, Jamie! Us, incompetent!”

Jamie cast what he hoped was a surreptitiously doubtful glance at the Doctor’s appearance, his hair sticking up everywhere and his clothes even more rumpled than usual, and around the console room, the floor littered with debris, wires and light bulbs and gadgets that he did not even have words for. “Of course we’re competent,” he said soothingly, rubbing the Doctor’s hands and smiling reassuringly. The Doctor narrowed his eyes, clearly seeing through the act, but said nothing.

“And I need to make these repairs before returning to Gallifrey, it’s such a fiddly piece of work. I’m just not sure I have time for all this, Jamie. Fancy that. Me, a Time Lord, running out of time.”

In all the years he had known the Doctor, Jamie had only rarely witnessed him in moments when he was not bustling around like he _was_ running out of time, but that was another thought to be kept to himself for the moment. “Can we not just stay, fix the TARDIS, and then go back in time to see what the Time Lords want now?”

 

“No, I’m afraid we can’t, Jamie,” the Doctor said wearily. “They’re tracking time as it applies to the TARDIS, not Gallifrey. Otherwise it would be far too easy for us to slip away from them. We must go, and hope that they sort it out themselves here, or that whoever the Time Lords send in has got more political sense than a Venusian moth.”

“A what?”

“A Venusian moth. They’re notoriously bad negotiators.”

“Oh, aye.” Jamie considered this for a moment. “Are ye done ranting?”

“Yes. The Doctor seemed to deflate, sagging against the console as if in defeat. “Yes, I’m finished.”

“Well, perhaps ye should go and get some rest, if the Time Lords need us back soon,” Jamie suggested.

“Not just now, I’m afraid,” the Doctor said, stifling a yawn ineffectively “I’m wide awake now. And besides, I would like to get started on these repairs.”

“Aye, alright then.” Jamie let go of his hands, ruffling his hair as the Doctor sat down on the floor beside a large box of strange-looking tools. “Need any help?”

“Mm.” The Doctor’s hands were already full of wires and instruments, a large cable held between his teeth. He took it out, struggling to hold everything in position, and said “you couldn’t fetch the life support system wires over there, could you? The purple ones.” He peered over as Jamie snatched up the wires he had gestured towards. “No, no, those are mauve. The – not the lavender ones, Jamie, you’ll send us all up in smoke! Yes, those are the ones. Bring them here.” Jamie dropped them next to him.

“Hey,” he said, as a thought struck him, “life support systems? You’ve no’ gotten rid of that, have ye?”

“Not deactivated it, Jamie, no,” the Doctor said distractedly. “More like, ah, taken out a few non-vital parts to check it’s operational.

“Non-vital?”

“Mm.”

“Sure?”

“Well, I certainly hope so.” The Doctor grinned up at him mischievously, reminding Jamie of the little copies of him that they had once encountered. “Tell you what, I’ll start on these, and you sit here -” he patted the floor next to himself invitingly - “and tell me if something goes wrong with the systems.”

“How will I know?” Jamie asked, sitting down beside him and leaning over towards the wires. “Hey!” A shock sent him reeling backwards as one of the wires hit him over the eye.

“Don’t touch them, Jamie,” the Doctor warned him. He looked up, seeing Jamie touch the spot experimentally, and softened, kissing him gently where the wire had touched. “There. All better. And I dare say you’ll figure out whether or not the life support has failed.”

“Ye dinnae mean to -”

“Yes, I do, Jamie.” The Doctor shuffled the wires around for a minute, sorting them first by colour, then by size. “Whatever would I do without you?”

Jamie rolled his eyes again, but kissed the Doctor on the cheek anyway. “I try not to think about it.”

“So do I. Now, see those blue wires over there, if you could just pass them over...”

“Ouch!”

“I did say not to touch them.”


End file.
